Jeff Kramer wants to make the world a safer place, one fridge at a time

2010 Thinkstock.comJeff Kramer is on a mission to clean out fridges. How does yours shape up?

Depending on the website, National Clean Out Your Refrigerator Day is Nov. 14 (yesterday) or Nov. 15 (today). Either way it’s a timely pre-Thanksgiving reminder that refrigeration alone won’t solve all your food-safety issues. I’ll confess, we have a few food items in our fridge that might need to be tossed, including a ham steak sprouting bioterror spores and some pre-Obama lime wedges bearing the same jaundiced pallor as the Carousel Center expansion.

What about your refrigerator? In the interest of raising community awareness, I dropped by Radisson last week to educate its residents about refrigerator hygiene. I wore a special work apron and stuffed the pockets with garbage bags, rubber gloves and Fantastik. I carried paper towels and, for identification, wore my bright yellow trucker’s cap that states, “Yes, I am Jeff Kramer.”

Why Radisson? Because, in my experience, the most rigid, tidy and conformist communities have the juiciest scandals. Behind that orderly Radisson facade might lurk a secret world of cold storage chaos.

Maybe it’s true, but I can’t prove it. In more than an hour of knocking on doors, of offering Radissonians a refrigerator clean-out at no charge and with complete anonymity, I had zero takers.

“I don’t think too many people are going to let you into their homes to clean out their fridge,” advised one nice lady.

“I keep a pretty clean refrigerator,” said another nice lady. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Several nice Radissonian men also rejected my offer. One joked that his wife would be upset if he threw out something she was saving to pass down to future generations. Obviously, he was using humor to avoid confronting a crisis. Please, sir, spare us the jokes. Clean out your refrigerator.

Another nice resident claimed his fridge was clean and even asked if I wanted to check it.

I was losing daylight and my mojo, so I made a tactical decision to visit a Syracuse University fraternity. I’m not sure why I ended up at Theta Chi in particular, but it was a good move. Cook Wendy Lehmann let me inspect the communal refrigerator, which she cleans out daily. It was in great shape. More importantly, it was dinnertime. Wendy pulled some chipotle chicken and pork from a large oven and fed me some samples in a stainless steel bowl like the one my dog Larry eats from. Delicious.

“What are we having tomorrow night?” I asked.

“Stromboli,” she replied.

My next project, obviously, will be to focus on becoming an honorary member of Theta Chi, some of whose members purportedly share my love of beer. Fraternity President Peter Scorcia explained that it’s “not that easy” but if I hang around enough and publicize Theta Chi’s many philanthropic endeavors, like sending gift baskets to troops and the upcoming food drive, I might be brother material.

This could be the start of a new life, speaking of which: I need to take that fetid ham steak to the dump.